


i hold my hands over the ears of my heart

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 4+1 fic, Angst, Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied slash/pre-slash, M/M, No Dialogue, Pre-Canon, Romantic Tension, Unhappy open ending, character reflection/character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: i wish i could believe you'd never wrong meFor better or (more likely) worse, Jughead remembers these moments--will always remember these moments--in excruciating detail.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> the question is not how much i love the song ['house of memories' by p!atd](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuliCkN2oic), the question is how many times will i use this song for title/summary purposes and for how many different pairings/fandoms??
> 
> anyway go listen to that song while reading this it'll make it hurt more, i promise. 
> 
> double anyway, sunnyjughead prompted "5 times archie defended jughead and one time he didn't/couldn't." i'm weird and did 4+1 instead, hope you like it friend!!

It all happens so fast, but he seems to register the sensations at a snail’s pace. First and foremost, the bite of his hands and knees hitting the gravel. Second, the dust that kicks up in the wake of his fall, clogging his throat and tickling his nose. The next two parts mingle: other kids laughing at him, and the wet tracks of tears down his cheeks. He doesn’t know which is more embarrassing or which started first, but it doesn’t really matter.

All in all, not the best moment of his kindergarten career so far. Pretty far from it, actually.

That is, until Archie Andrews enters. He wears a flushed look of determination, cheeks as red as his hair while he steps up to the bullies. Steps up to protect Jughead. They don’t even know each other, never seen each other more than in passing, but that doesn’t seem to matter now. Here he stands, his shadow looming over Jughead, staring down those who pushed Jughead down in the first place. Jughead doesn’t move except to sit by Archie’s feet; he watches with wide eyes as his new best friend rips the bullies a new one—in the way only a kindergartener can—lisp and all.

Eventually, they’re the only ones left in this corner of the playground.

Archie offers him a sticky hand, then a tight frown as he gets a glimpse at the scrapes on Jughead’s palms and knees. They take a quick second to introduce themselves, and then Archie is taking Jughead by the hand. He pulls, pulls, pulls until they’ve fallen in step toward the nurse’s office, Archie determined and Jughead quietly following his lead.

Archie sits with him as the nurse wipes at his palms, and when Jughead flinches at the sting Archie doesn’t tease him even a little bit. Archie sits with him as Jughead gets little superhero bandages plastered carefully to his bumps and bruises. Archie sits with him, outside the nurse’s office, until the bell rings. Then, like a gentleman, Archie walks Jughead to his classroom and promises to see him after school.

Archie doesn’t break his promise.

 

 

 

Jughead is different from other kids. He’s not lazy, or inattentive, or all that bored really. He’s just… different. He doesn’t mind homework and doesn’t mind listening to teachers drone on and on. He just knows keeping his desk clean is hard; he just knows he likes to doodle in the margins of his papers (and his teachers _really_ don’t like his doodles). He just knows that lunch is his favorite time of the day, even when teachers make him stay in the classroom to eat.

Jughead is different from other kids, but he’s got Archie Andrews.

(When he looks back on the memory ten years later or so, Jughead will realize their third-grade teacher probably wasn’t the best person to be, well… _a teacher_. In the moment, though, Mrs. Watson is God, and what she says goes.)

She’s not yelling, per se; she’s not exactly soft-spoken either. She’s somewhere in between the two with an emphasis toward ear-shattering. After a minute or two of her tirade, Jughead realizes he hasn’t heard a thing she’s said. He knows without a doubt it’s nothing kind, but he can’t recall specifics even if his life depended on it. The blood rushing in his ears drowns out everything else—until Archie shouts.

Archie shouts and shouts, until two other teachers come barreling in to investigate.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, and ultimately no one gets in trouble: not Jughead, not Archie, not even Mrs. Watson. Even so, Jughead gets the sense his school life is going to start looking up. Jughead is still different from other kids, and Mrs. Watson is still pretty tough on him, but he’s still got Archie Andrews.

That’s plenty.

 

 

 

Jughead has long since realized he’s an ideal target for bullies. He used to wonder why, and oh what a blessing youthful naivety had been. He used to wonder why he was singled out so often, so specifically. By the time he’s reached the ripe old age of eleven, he knows why.

He’s smart, but in a weird way. He’s cute, but in a weird way. He likes food too much, and somehow there’s a way to be weird about _that_ too. It mostly doesn’t bother him, except for the moments when it does.

The last day of fifth grade is a blur of games and activities. Jughead sticks by Archie’s side for most of the day and they only separate when teachers pull them apart. Even then, most of the time the separation doesn’t last long. Archie spends the whole time apart searching crowds for Jughead; Jughead does the same, while simultaneously doing as little as possible to draw attention to himself.

More often than not, they end up shoved back together quickly.

Despite that, it doesn’t stop Jughead from being targeted at least once. He ends up separated from Archie in the lunch room, and in no time flat he’s on his butt in the middle of the room, food spilling on and all around him. He doesn’t cry this time. But his lower lip wobbles, his eyes burn, and he can’t speak out of embarrassment and anger and plain, old-fashioned sadness.

It’s the first time Archie punches someone for him. The bully ends up with a shiner, and Archie ends up with sore knuckles and a few hours of summer detention.

When they walk home that day, Jughead tries to tell him that wasn’t necessary. Archie just looks at him like he’s crazy, just stops walking suddenly and keeps on staring. Jughead stops too and faces his best friend. For a while, none of them speak, but Archie’s eyes speak volumes. Eventually the moment passes and Archie slowly smiles. He pats Jughead on the shoulder and pulls him along to keep walking.

That night, Archie’s dad treats them to ice cream as a present—for moving up a grade, _and_ for Archie throwing his first right hook.

 

 

 

Things are a lot different in middle school, and Jughead knows this. He recognizes the changes that have happened so far and is wary of the ones lingering on the horizon. He knows that high school is only going to be worse and the dread builds up in his stomach over the course of their eighth-grade year. He notices more and more things he doesn’t really care about: people holding hands, stealing kisses in hallways, making goo-goo eyes at one another.

He doesn’t partake, of course, but he does see it.

Not taking part draws even more unwanted attention to him than ever before. He doesn’t want to hold hands or kiss people (not right now, and maybe not ever, he’s still figuring it out, okay?) and in the eyes of his peers that just won’t do. Whispers follow him, most of them pitying and sorrowful and all the more irritating because honestly? Jughead just _does not care_. He’s not concerned with girls or boys or the drama that comes with. He’s not concerned with getting a date to the late winter formal, even though it seems like everyone else in the world _is_.

And truth be told he’s not even sure how Archie finds out about the teasing and taunting. They aren’t growing apart, but Jughead has been trying to fight his own battles. Or, rather, ignore his battles and keep other people from fighting them for him. He’s teased a lot, about many things, and barely tells Archie about half the stuff that happens. It’s just too much work.

In spite of his attempts to keep Archie in the dark, his best friend continues to surprise him.

Archie shows up on his doorstep the night of the formal, dressed up nice but not _too_ nice, and stares expectantly at Jughead. When he doesn’t say anything, Archie just lets himself inside and in an easy tone asks that Jughead go change into something a little nicer. Some slacks, at least, because Archie’s dad wants pictures before they head to the dance.

Dazed and confused, Jughead obeys and before he can really register it, they’re under the dark lights of the gymnasium. Jughead doesn’t know the music, can’t make out the faces of their peers except for Betty and Kevin by the stage. Not that it matters what Jughead does or doesn’t know; Archie drags him out to the dancefloor without asking and arranges their limbs like he actually knows what he’s doing. They both sort of lead, and they both kind of don’t, and laughter starts to spill from deep in Jughead’s gut before he can stop it.

Once the laughter subsides, Jughead leans in to speak quietly. He tells Archie he didn’t have to do this, and means every word. Jughead had food, movies, and more food lined up for a great evening spent in his pajamas.

Archie simply scoffs in reply, then tells Jughead he’s the best dance partner a guy could ask for.

 

 

 

It’s the beginning of the end, when it happens.

Freshman year is weird. Unpleasant. Jughead hurts all over and all the time; he’s hungrier than ever, and his only solace is learning that ‘asexuality’ doesn’t only apply to plants. He finds the word the week before freshman year starts, and clings to it like a lifejacket in the stormy sea that is high school. He latches onto this piece of his identity, this first cornerstone in who he is meant to be, holds it desperately close to his chest so no one can take it from him. He doesn’t tell anyone, not even Archie.

When it happens, it’s been a long time coming but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

In the year or so that follows, he’ll wonder if it’s his fault their relationship started to go downhill. He knows it’s not _all_ his fault—takes two to tango, or ruin a friendship, whatever—but he can’t help but feel a little guilty. A little to blame. Keeping something major from his best friend is just asking for trouble, he’s known that since day one. He never does figure out the answer.

Nothing about the moment, when it finally dawns, surprises Jughead in the least. The slurs hurled at him are hardly a shock (and really, will teenage boys _ever_ come up with better insults than ‘faggot’ or ‘pussy,” Jughead wonders). Hands on him, light and not-quite-violent, pushing him around are practically textbook. It’s enough to make him feel sick deep down in his stomach, but not enough to surprise him. The laughter of the kids around him echo hauntingly, and he thinks back to kindergarten for a split second. The teachers shouting, rushing down the hallway, break through his momentary reverie.

What surprises him the least is the way Archie stands off to the side. He looks awkward and ashamed. He doesn’t speak up and doesn’t step in; there are no fierce words or right hooks on Jughead’s side this time. Nothing from Archie, aside from a hooded and dejected look they share as Jughead is doted on by concerned teachers.

Archie doesn’t walk home with him for the first time in years, and Jughead knows things will never be the same.

**Author's Note:**

> still taking one word/simple prompts for jarchie over at [my tumblr](http://punk-rock-yuppie.tumblr.com/ask)!


End file.
